


you keep my feet on the ground

by ThatGirlTheyKnow



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is a couple of years younger, Age Difference, Alana is a school counsellor, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, I screwed with the timeline of everything to suit my purposes, Murder Family, Unethical Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatGirlTheyKnow/pseuds/ThatGirlTheyKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail, adopted by Hannibal and Will Graham after her father's death at Will's hands, attends a boarding school where Alana Bloom, Hannibal and Will's old friend, works as a school counsellor. She becomes dependent on their weekly appointments, and Alana can't for the life of her push the girl away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you keep my feet on the ground

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know? I'm sorry. I just love this pairing so much.  
> (I own nothing! *throws confetti*)

She invites the new girl into her office for a meeting just like she does with all the new girls, except this time, she has more reason. Abigail Hobbs transferred to this school to board for her senior year because her father was a serial killer who killed and ate girls who looked like his daughter. Abigail had done a year of therapy after her parents’ death and had been adopted by Alana’s friend, Hannibal, and his husband, Will, who had killed Garret Jacob Hobbs. Alana had never met the girl, though, because she had quit her psychiatry job and become a school counsellor just months before Will had been put on the Minnesota Shrike case.

Abigail, as far as Alana knew, had been happy with Will and Hannibal, but she wanted to escape the memories of her father. Hannibal had suggested she board at St Augustine’s Girl’s College, and Abigail had jumped at the chance.

So now, on her first day, she knocks quietly on Alana’s door and the counsellor is struck with how vulnerable she looked with her big, worried eyes and pale – almost translucent – skin. Abigail plays with the end of her scarf when Alana invites her to sit down.

“So, you know Ha- uh, my dads?” Abigail asks, not meeting Alana’s eyes.

“Yes, I do.  Hannibal and Will are both very good friends of mine. Anyway, Abigail, I invited you here to see how you’re settling in. How was your first night?”

Abigail shrugs. “Okay, I guess. The girls didn’t talk to me. They know who I am. But I expected that. I didn’t come here to make friends.”

Alana raises an eyebrow. “Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to get away from my dads,” Abigail says, laughing in a not-quite happy way, like she was making a joke at her own expense. “They love me, and I love them, but they worry too much. Especially Hannibal... he’s very protective.”

Alana smiles. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from him, really. But do you think you’re going to be happier here?”

“Yes. I just want some space from people constantly asking how I am. Hannibal says I should set up an appointment with you once a week, though.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But just so you know, I’m not a psychiatrist anymore, so if you do, our meetings will be less intense than your official therapy. I’ll simply be here if you want to talk... about anything.”

Abigail shrugs again. “I might as well. No need to incur Hannibal’s wrath.”

-

Very slowly, Abigail opens up to Alana, and the woman is given the chance to see her as she would have been before her father started killing those girls. Alana is deeply curious about the girl, who, on rare occasions, could laugh and joke, but the next day be withdrawn and troubled. The counsellor spends hours after their weekly appointments about Abigail, and the secrets she’s, and the way she manipulates without even realising it. Alana knows it’s not professional, but she wishes she could see Abigail at her most exposed and honest. She feels guilty, but it does nothing to take away the curiosity.

Two months after they meet, Alana’s curiosity grows.

Abigail has an incident on a Thursday, and they meet on Fridays. From what the teachers told Alana, one of the girls from Abigail’s dormitory made a comment about the girl’s nightmares, and insinuated that she has them because she feels guilty that she helped her father. At this comment, Abigail started shaking, then screaming, and they had to call the nurses to take her to the health room, where Abigail fell asleep and woke up with no memory of what had happened.

Abigail bursts into Alana’s office on Friday with tears streaming down her cheeks. “They won’t tell me what happened yesterday with Mia. The whole school is staring at me like I’m insane! What’s going on?”

Alana stands and wraps Abigail in a warm hug, letting the girl cry into her blouse. She smooth down Abigail’s soft, dark hair and whispers words that she knows hold no comfort. Eventually, Abigail calms down, but she keeps her arms wrapped tightly around Alana’s waist as though the woman is the only thing keeping her stable.

“Mia,” Alana starts cautiously. “Made a comment in your class about you having nightmares because you helped your father kill those girls.”

Abigail makes a choked sound.

“You didn’t react well,” Alana continues. She carefully unwinds Abigail’s arms from around her and places the girl in her usual seat. She moves her own chair so they are sitting side-by-side. “You started screaming. Just... screaming. You didn’t react to anything anybody did, so the nurses took you to the health room where you screamed until you fell asleep.”

Abigail starts shaking again, and she meets Alana’s gentle eyes with red, puffy ones. She looks terrified and sick. “Oh.”

Alana grabs her hand. “It’s completely fine, Abigail. Nobody’s judging you. What Mia said was wrong, and she’s been punished.”

“It’s okay. I mean, most of the world thinks the same.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are a good person, Abigail, and I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

-

Hannibal comes that night to pick Abigail up for the weekend at the girl’s request. Alana is still in her office despite the sun setting outside her window when Hannibal, his hand on Abigail’s shoulder, knocks on her door.

“Alana,” he greets warmly when she welcomes them in. He embraces her for a moment. “It is good to see you again.”

“You too, Hannibal,” she assures him, smiling. “How’s Will?”

Hannibal’s face turns sombre briefly. “His work is taking a toll on him,” he says. Then, “But, I would appreciate a private conversation with you.” He shoots Abigail a look, and the girl rolls her eyes dramatically and leaves the room. Alana grins.

“She’s a good kid,” she tells Hannibal sincerely. He smiles and nods once, but looks hesitant to say something. Alana knows him well, and tells him to get it out of his system.

He says, “Abigail talks about you at length in our phone conversations. I am aware that she has little interest in friendship with the other girls, but she seems to have great interest in friendship with you.”

Alana opens her mouth, but she has no words. She closes it and frowns. If she was being honest, she knew Abigail had developed a dependency on their conversations. Professionally, she should have talked to the girl about it, mentioned boundaries. But she felt protective of her, insanely protective, and if Abigail found happiness in their conversations, then Alana’s personal feelings took control and she allowed her the respite from the way the girls treated her.

“I can’t say no to her,” Alana says, looking down. “I just want her to be happy. It kills me seeing her upset. I’m sorry.”

“She does have a way of getting under one’s skin.” Hannibal tilts Alana’s head upwards so their eyes meet. He smiles reassuringly, and there is a knowing glint to his eyes that makes her uncomfortable. “I don’t mind, Alana. You are my friend, one of the few people I trust with her. And in a way, I am grateful that Abigail has found someone she is comfortable with. Dare I say, even more comfortable than she is with Will and I.”

Alana feels flustered. The idea that Abigail likes her so much sends a wave of warmth through her body. “I-”

“I should be going,” Hannibal interrupts smoothly, heading towards the door. “I’ll send Abigail to you when she comes back on Sunday evening. I feel an extra conversation with you will do her good.” He pauses, then adds, “It was good to see you again Alana, truly.”

She sighs, and smiles. “You too, Hannibal.”

-

Abigail shows up at Alana’s office on Monday when she should be in English. She smiles sheepishly and fiddles with the end of her scarf.

“Hi,” she says. Alana doesn’t say anything; she simply raises an eyebrow as Abigail sits down.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I asked to go to the bathroom.”

“And why did you feel the need to lie to visit me? You could have booked an appointment.”

Abigail meets her eyes, and her expression is more confident than it was a few moments ago. “I needed to talk to you when we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

Alana purses her lips. Despite what Hannibal said, she isn’t certain about her relationship with Abigail. It makes her nervous is a way she isn’t comfortable thinking about, in a way that makes her stomach flip and her cheeks flush. There’s a thin, dangerous line when it comes to counselling, and she has never felt more scared of crossing it than when Abigail occupies the seat across from her.

“Ever since my parents died, I haven’t felt grounded,” Abigail says when Alana doesn’t reply. “Even when Hannibal and Will got married and took me under their wing, and loved and understood me unconditionally, I’ve felt like I’m a few inches off the ground and I could blow away at any time. I have nightmares, and they’re so real. I’m unstable, and I’m scared something is going to tip me over the edge, like last week, except permanently.” She pauses, and Alana sees tears in her eyes. There is nothing the woman wants to do more than to wipe the tears away and hold her close.

“Abigail...”

“You make me feel grounded!” Abigail blurts out like she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve. She leans forward, hands braced on the desk, face imploring. “Nobody’s ever made me feel so normal before, nobody except you. You... you’ve become my _rock_ , and I know it’s unhealthy, and I _know_ there are boundaries, but I-” She realises her voice has been growing louder and louder, and cuts herself off.

Alana is staring at her with a broken look on her face. The woman’s hands are shaking where she clutches at her armrests for support. Her heart is beating faster than usual, a mixture of shock and anticipation (but for what, she can’t say).

Abigail abruptly jumps out of her chair and heads to the door, but Alana can’t let her, can’t watch her go after _that_. She stands up and runs after Abigail before the girl can reach the door. She puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her around. _We need to talk,_ she thinks to herself dazedly, _we need to discuss this like two mature adults who understand laws and ethics and..._

And Abigail leans up and presses their lips together, hungry and desperate. Alana is frozen, and Abigail’s lips are soft and warm. The girl puts her hands on Alana’s hips and like that, the woman melts into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Abigail’s waist and pulling her closer.

Then she remembers who she’s kissing, and pulls herself away.

“That,” Alana gasps, panting, bracing a hand on her desk behind her. “Was _very_ unethical.”

Abigail looks shocked at her own actions, her jaw dropped, but not necessarily displeased.

“You kissed me back,” she says, and laughs. Alana glares at her half-heartedly.

“This isn’t funny,” she groans. “This is _so_ not okay.”

“I think it’s pretty great, to be honest.” Abigail replies, almost cheerful. She moves to lean on Alana’s desk, grabbing the hand resting there. Alana feels helpless and allows herself to be manoeuvred so Abigail, still leaning against the desk, has her arms wrapped around the woman’s waist, their foreheads pressed together.

Alana sighs and kisses Abigail’s forehead. She puts her hands on Abigail’s shoulders. “I’m glad I help ground you, I really am.”

“Does this mean you’ll let us use some... unorthodox methods to counsel me through my problems?”

Alana laughs and tilts her head back as Abigail starts kissing her neck, as though to demonstrate the methods they could use.

She doesn’t disagree.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was a terrible ending. What do you think? Should I write more of these lovely ladies? (I should. I should write more femslash in general).


End file.
